


submerged

by cosmicallycatastrophic



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Character Study, M/M, also set pre-soc i guess because no wylan?, au where kaz learns about himself through jesper not inej, kaz is a mlm, kaz is just trying, sort of, sort of an introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:37:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicallycatastrophic/pseuds/cosmicallycatastrophic
Summary: SUBMERGE[verb]1. to put or sink below the surface of water or any other enveloping medium.2. to cover or overflow with water; immerse.3. to cover; bury; subordinate; suppress.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is kaz coming to terms with affection and contact and relationships i think. im not sure. no beta we die like men. its my very first fic + constructive comments are welcome!! also hit me up on tumblr at greedismyservant and say hi!

i. Kaz Brekker was no stranger to men.

Arrogant men, thieving men, clever men, stupid men, rich men; men whose decency hit you like cheap cologne; men whose greed outpaced them and tripped them onto the cold cobblestones of the East Stave; he knew them all.

Men were all the same: the same building blocks arranged in different patterns, like the innards of a watch. If you could figure out the workings of one, you'd cracked them all, no matter what the outer casing looked like.

But there was still one type of man, one variety of springs and cogs and mechanisms, which Kaz was not familiar with. Kaz Brekker had never understood men who liked him. There weren’t many, due to his reputation and his mind that was so often brilliant and cruel at the same time. There used to be more, when Kaz Brekker was Kaz Rietveld, Jordie’s brother, bright young man. But Jordie had died, and so had Kaz’s kindness.

Now there were none. Now he was evil.

 

ii. When Jesper Fahey arrived in the barrel, Kaz kept eyes on him, this unreasonably tall Zemeni boy with hair so large it made him seem even thinner, as if he would snap in a harsh breeze. He looked about Kaz's age but his stance was younger, open and confident. He had honest features and fast fingers, a lazy grin splitting his face in conversation.

He was in and out of gambling dens along the Stave for hours at a time, drunkenly staggering between them, dipping into pleasure houses when the mood struck him. At the end of the night he holed up wherever the wind blew, kicked out of various nooks and crannies by the gangs roaming the streets, and Kaz wondered when his money would run out.

He monitored the boy closely, because he had a hunch. A hunch based on nothing, no fleeting evidence, no brief instances that proved he could be worthwhile. Kaz Brekker was the bastard of the barrel, a monster, a murderer, and he never got hung up on people. He was never obsessed. He was never tempted. Except when he was.

Pining over a boy with cocky posture and arrogant smiles and stupid hair, acting like he did when Jordie was still alive and teased him for staring after boys too old and self-assured to look twice at him. Kaz pushed the thought down before it made him sick.

Kaz had seen the boy shoot once, on a dare, a gamble, probably for money. He was challenged by a group of laughing tourists to get a can that balanced by the prow of a canal boat, steaming by at a leisurely pace. The boat was maybe thirty yards away, and the boy hit the target dead centre.

That night, Kaz sat at his desk and wondered if he was going mad.

 

iii. Two days later and the Zemeni boy stood in Kaz's makeshift study, looking awkward and too tall for the cramped attic.

"Have you ever had a contract?" Kaz asked. He was seated on his small wooden chair behind the desk piled high with papers. He had this conversation worked out. Corner him, offer the advantage, and let greed do the rest of the work, efficient lever as ever.

"No. I've never even had a job, if that's why you've brought me here. No experience at all."

"I brought you here because I think your money isn't going to last much longer."

The boy frowned. "Why is that any of your business?"

"I make it my business. You're very good with a pistol, did you know that?"

The boy's lanky frame rolled with a shrug.

"I think you could be useful around here, and Per Haskell, the man in charge, is willing to offer you a decent contract with food and board. All you have to do is demonstrate some more skill with a gun."

The boy nodded, his face set in thought. Then he shrugged again, sinewy muscles rippling.

"Well, why not. I could use a place to stay." He signed the piece of paper Kaz handed to him without even reading it through. Stupid, Kaz thought, but he didn't care. He was somewhere near giddy with the prospect of this boy in the Dregs, not just because of his talent. It was something else, a feeling that tugged at Kaz relentlessly, something that made him feel sick down to his toes and ridiculously excited in the same instant.

Kaz stood, extending a gloved hand.

"I'm Kaz Brekker, so who are you?"

The boy smiled and shook it. "Jesper Fahey."

"Thank you for joining us, Jesper. On your way down get someone to shave the rat’s nest off your head."

 

iv. One evening after a job, Jesper followed Kaz up to his attic and took a seat, blithely chatting and grinning as if he had every right to invade Kaz's space. He should've minded, but he didn't. He welcomed Jesper's company, and he tried not to think about what that meant.

Kaz had to change his shirt; it was caked in grime and sweat. He went to his wardrobe and got out a fresh one.

"I have to change my shirt." Kaz said loudly, giving Jesper the chance to leave and hoping he'd take it. Anyone with a sense of self-preservation would run and consider themselves lucky to escape from this situation intact; if Kaz Brekker thought you should leave a room, it was in your best interests to do so. But a small part of Kaz wanted Jesper to stay, wanted him to watch, to see Kaz's pale skin and garish, ugly scars.

Jesper shrugged from his chair, unbothered. He was oblivious to the fact that this was Kaz at his most vulnerable, Dirtyhands stripped bare and exposed. "Okay."

So Kaz unbuttoned his shirt and shucked it off quickly, facing away from Jesper, trying not to make it look like a striptease, frowning in disdain at the thought. His heart raced and he felt the blood in his ears. He wondered if he would faint. He wondered if Jesper was looking. He slipped on the fresh shirt with shaking fingers just as Jesper spoke.

"Why have you got an R on your arm?"

Kaz relaxed as he buttoned the shirt deftly, still turned away. He was almost back on safe ground. His mind shuffled through answers faster than his hands could go through cards.

"I had a childhood dog called Rufus."

"You must have really liked him," Jesper chuckled, and Kaz felt himself smiling.

"I did, I loved him. Until he bit me and died, because I'm poisonous."

Kaz turned around to see Jesper looking directly at him, face serious.

“Of course. Kaz Brekker, terror of Ketterdam, had a tiny little puppy dog that he loved so much he got a permanent memorial on his arm.” He paused, a smile breaking into him face. “Not what I expected.”

In that moment, Kaz wanted more than anything to step towards him, to touch him, to feel the warmth and life that Jesper embodied, the laughter trapped under his skin. He wondered if he could ever live like that. Live a life of touching and smiling and sunlight, a life of good things. It was evil for his mind to betray him with this idea, though it came as no surprise that Kaz’s mind was capable of evil things, only they were usually less self-destructive.

Later that night, he was violently sick remembering the way he’d exposed himself, stupid and juvenile.

 

v. Jesper had brought Kaz Rietveld back. The signs were everywhere; the fact that he’d let Jesper in his office before he even knew his name, the fact that he’d let Jesper see him shirtless and vulnerable. The way his chest tightened and his stomach lurched when they were close. The way he’d seen Jesper drunk and crying for his parents, his life, shaking with grief.

It scared Kaz. It terrified him. It clutched him like a hand in his sleep, sending him nightmare after nightmare, nothing but images of skin and intimacy that were so real they forced Kaz awake and to the toilet, dry heaving with revulsion.

He was a child again, clumsy and dependent, brightening up when Jesper paid him attention, withering away when he didn’t. He hated himself for it.

 

vi. And then there was the wraith. Inej, the most beautiful girl Kaz had ever seen, with her Suli wisdom and talent for disappearing. A girl who deserved so much more than this life and so much more than Kaz. Being around her made him feel insane, like the ground had been snatched from under his feet. She was everything he could’ve possibly wanted, and maybe in another life (the one Inej deserved) it would be enough, and Kaz would be a decent man and sweep her off her feet and not feel the urge to retch when she held his bare hands. The thought made Kaz laugh. This wasn’t another life, and he wasn’t a decent man. He was Dirtyhands. He would never take the gloves off.

She touched his cheek that night. He twitched away from it, breath coming short.

“I can’t.” He didn’t think about Jesper, how the situation would be if it was him touching Kaz’s face instead of Inej. Maybe he would lean in, feeling no disgust. Maybe the smashed up jigsaw of his feelings would finally fall into place. “I can’t.”

Inej looked at him with her heavy brown eyes, knowing everything at once. She drew her hand away. Her lips parted uncertainly.

“You have to try.”

And then the wraith was gone.

 

vii. Kaz Brekker knew a lot of things.

He knew the feeling of a pulse fluttering to a halt beneath his gloved fingers. He knew bruises and bloody lips and eyes that sparked with a wild, insatiable rage just as they begged for another punch. He knew rotting flesh and canal water.

He knew that no one could stay with him and no one could love him. He was Dirtyhands, he was the devil, he was the monster living under your bed and lurking in your darkest secrets. It wasn’t that he didn’t deserve love, as such. He wasn’t built for love. His heart had no capacity for fondness and affection. Love was a device and a tool as much as greed was, and that was good, that was the way it should be.

Because Kaz Brekker wasn’t and had never been a cripple. But love could turn him into one.

 

viii. That wasn’t the truth. Or it was, but not the whole truth. It was a version of the truth that Kaz told himself, to avoid the whole truth. The whole truth was too big, too dark, too dangerous to touch, even with his leather gloves on. It was better left alone. He was better left alone. Jesper should have left him alone.

Jesper couldn’t, or wouldn’t, leave him alone.

 

ix. They had conned a bank. It wasn’t hard, and deceit was Kaz’s forte, so they had come away with a few thousand kruge. Enough to satisfy him, enough to excite Jesper. They were gods, or kings, victorious, making their way back to the Crow Club. The dark backstreets held glossy silence, broken at each corner with the clack of Kaz’s cane and Jesper’s wild laughter, too loud.

Kaz drew up short and turned to Jesper, already wound tight, senses crackling.

“There is no point getting away with the money if you are so _insistent_ on telling everyone where we are.” His rasp was prominent, snaking into the tension surrounding them.

Jesper grinned, flashed his teeth, made invincible by the rush of success. “You want me to be quiet?” He leaned in, closing the distance between them. Kaz could feel himself trembling. He fought to control his breath.

Jesper dropped his voice to a whisper that was several shades darker than it had been before. His eyes glinted. “Make me.”

Kaz was suffocating. His heart was suddenly too alive, out of control. It was there, it wasn’t going away.

_You have to try._

Kaz’s fingers were on fire when he reached up to brush Jesper’s cheek. He felt the heat through the leather. It was not Jordie’s corpse, it was not dead, it was not rotting. It was alive. It was everything. It was the bird caught in cat’s jaws, a pulse trapped in unfeeling skin, winning cards hidden behind gentle hands. He curled his fingers and the feeling was stronger. He didn’t dare to breathe because he knew how fast things could blow apart.

Jesper turned towards the touch without breaking eye contact. He slowly brought up his hand to hover by Kaz’s jaw and, when Kaz didn’t flinch, rested it there lightly. Kaz swallowed. He felt the fragility of everything around him all too keenly. Jesper looked like he was going to lean in further, but thought better of it. He glanced into the dark street.

“There’s nothing you can’t do,” he said roughly. He looked back at Kaz. “You should know that.”

_You have to try._

Jesper’s hand was still on Kaz’s jaw. Kaz knew he could feel the muscles clenching. “I’m doing this.”

_I can, I can, I can._

 

x. Kaz Brekker had never understood men who liked him. There weren’t many, due to his reputation and his mind that was so often brilliant and cruel at the same time. There used to be more, when Kaz Brekker was Kaz Rietveld, Jordie’s brother, bright young man. Jordie had died.

But that didn’t mean Kaz had to die too.

Now he was hurt, and he was empty and he had fought and killed his way to the top of the city. He was not dead. He was different.

Now there was a man who liked him. Now he was not evil. Now he could do anything.

_I can, I can, I can._


End file.
